


Ownership

by Amelita



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Dom/sub, Human Furniture, Humiliation, M/M, Objectification, Service Submission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6307759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelita/pseuds/Amelita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Objectification is the term used to refer to a kink for roleplaying and acting as an object. This can refer to being used as human furniture or it can be a little more vague, such as having the sub’s body used as a toy for the Dom’s pleasure. It can be classified as either a humiliation kink or as a service kink depending on the nature of the objectification. "</p><p>This is going to be an interactive, prompt based fic. You give me the object, I write the scene. There will be no plot whatsoever, just brief moments of a dominant Asami using a submissive Akihito as whatever object your filthy minds can come up with. Its a consensual kink that both parties are into, so have fun and be creative!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ashtray

Asami relaxed after a long day’s work as he always did, with a glass of scotch and a fine Cuban cigar. The smoke was thick and pungent and seeped into everything. As such, he enjoyed his cigars outside. He sat on his balcony, with his feet up. Dusk melded into darkness over the city. He took a deep breath, drawing thick smoke into his mouth, savoring it and then exhaling in rings. He watched the smoke rise and dissipate into the dewy air before turning to tap the ashes off into his ashtray.

The ashtray’s pink hole clenched and fluttered as hot ashes fell down inside it. It wriggled then, whining just a bit uncomfortably where it knelt on its knees on the floor beside his chair. Asami quickly transferred his cigar to his left hand and popped its ass as hard as he could with his right. The ashtray let out a sweet little yelp of pain but stayed perfectly in the position Asami had pressed it into, face on the floor, ass in the air, knees spread and hands back displaying its pink hole prettily. Its gaping hole was a two inch void, surrounded by shiny scalded looking pink skin. The ashtray’s fingers held its hole pried wide open for Asami’s use, but it probably couldn’t close its hole up even if it wanted to, not after Asami had kept it wearing a giant plug for the past two days. It had whined and cried at the size of the plug, but not protested. Things could make noises, but they certainly couldn’t talk back.

Asami savored his cigar, tapping hot ashes into his ashtray after every long drag. His fingers idly caressed the smooth skin around its hole as the night turned cold and goosebumps began to dot its flesh. He enjoyed the beauty of the object almost as much as he enjoyed his ownership of it. Asami loved to surround himself with beautiful things, items of quality and rarity. Only the best.

When he was done with his cigar, he carefully extinguished the tip with wet fingers and then dropped it down inside the ashtray. It made an audible thud when it hit the bottom of the ashtray’s colon and it must have still been somewhat hot because the ashtray began to move and jiggle around. Asami smirked as he blew one last stream of hot, caustic smoke down into the ashtray's poor asshole and then put the lid on it to keep the smoke inside. The glass plug popped back inside the ashtray’s tender, heat-sensitized rim and it groaned in discomfort.

As punishment for that, Asami left the ashtray where it knelt shivering for a few more long minutes before finally letting it come back inside.

It slept at his side, held tight in his arms, where it always did, but in the morning, Asami reminded it of what it was by making it bend over before it left for work. He snagged the back of its underwear and pulled it back so he could see the ashtray’s pale, perfect buttocks. He had been saving the contents of other ashtrays for weeks and he emptied the filthy contents into the object’s drawers until they were overflowing with cigar butts and ash. The nasty gray and black powder covered its full buttocks and the cigarette butts rolled and slipped down between its cheeks, nestling in the crack of its crotch. Asami pulled the ashtray’s pants up as hard as he could. They bulged with the contents of the ashtray. The back of its britches looked lumpy and full, suspiciously like a child’s dirty diaper. The ashtray would not be able to empty or clean itself until Asami did it.

The object would have to walk around all day with its underwear full of filth, feeling the edges of Asami's discarded cigarettes scratching at its tender flesh, smelling like it belonged in a dirty bar. The ashtray seemed to realize this and its lovely face reflected its disgust and appall. It was probably regretting its decision to wear such tight skinny jeans today. Asami smirked as he patted it on its bottom and sent it on its way. He would clean it up when it got home, make it kneel in the bath and give it a nice warm two liter enema to make sure every last bit of filth was washed from its hole, but it certainly wouldn’t be forgetting who it belonged to anytime soon.

-


	2. Footstool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Backtofive

That evening the ashtray was lovingly cleaned and dried, both inside and out. All of its needs had been taken care of. Asami had scrubbed its tender skin until it shone and slathered on with soothing lotion. He oiled and perfumed its hair. Asami took great pride in caring for his possessions.

It lay at his feet, serving him now as a footstool. Asami’s heels rest in the soft hollow of its back, propped up so that the crackling fire could warm the bare soles. The footstool’s own bare skin was pink from the heat. It looked sleepy and content where it lay, naked on its belly on a soft Persian rug. Asami read softly to it from a book.

Usually when the footstool served him, he made it kneel up on all fours, his feet resting on its well padded buttocks as he watched television or read the paper, and he made it stay that way until its arms began to tremble. But the footstool had had a long, difficult day.

It wasn’t long before the object began to snore softly where it lay beneath Asami’s feet. Footstools didn’t snore. Asami considered spanking it awake but he only smiled as he sat the book down and picked up his wayward footrest.

He settled it next to him in bed, wondering what his most cherished belonging would decide to be tomorrow.

-


	3. Brush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For closetfanficwhore and HappyCamperSunny and Lycianea

Asami walked down the hall with his suit buttoned, hair slick, briefcase in hand. The last piece of his business suit of armour rested by the door; a pair of gleaming black Italian leather loafers. Asami shined them himself, once a week with his shoeshine kit. He had forgotten to do so for the past few days. It seemed someone else had not.

His shoeshine kit sat on an older newspaper spread out in the hallways. His shoes lay in front of it. 

Asami slipped the expensive loafers on and tied the laces tightly. He rubbed his feet between the shoe shine kit’s legs, using the soft fabric of its inner thighs to wipe them clean. The shoeshine kit held a brush in its mouth, the wood handle clenched between its pearly teeth. Asami grabbed back of its head and twined his fingers into soft blond hair so he could push its face down to dip the brush in black oily polish. Then he pushed it over to his feet. The brush took over from there, scrubbing and sweeping in circles over the tops and side of his shoes. Back and forth it went, carefully scrubbing every nook and cranny of Asami’s loafers with the brush in its mouth. The oil made the leather gleam like new. There was a bit too much and when the brush was done scrubbing, Asami shoved his foot between its thighs again, wiping it vigorously against the cloth of its crotch and buttocks. It yelped at the rough friction between its legs, where the laces caught and scratched and it wriggled so Asami grabbed its hair and held it still so he could repeat the process with the other foot. 

All day long Asami smiled when he looked down at his shiny shoes. They had never looked so good.

-


	4. Bottle Holder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For countingcr0ws and fanfic3112

There was nothing Asami Ryuichi enjoyed more than a good exotic beer, ice cold with sweat running down the chilled glass bottle. 

His amber eyes narrowed on the neck of the bottle where it protruded from two full cheeks. The cool beverage was chilling in his wine chiller. Its taut stretched hole was packed with slowly melting ice that had clinked against the bottom of the bottle when he had shoved it in afterwards. That had taken some doing. The hole was tight, made tighter still by the intense cold. The skin was pale and white where it had clenched back down around the tapered neck of the bottle. The widest part had disappeared inside it.

He pushed it with his thumb and then flicked it sideways and the cooler moved awkwardly to crouch over his glass. The bottle between its legs tipped, carefully controlled by the cooler’s pelvic and rectal muscles, and poured some frothy, cool beer into his mug. Asami toasted it with a resounding 'clink' when the glass was almost full.

Asami sipped it slowly, enjoying the sight more than the taste. Sweat glistened on the bottle and ran down the trickle across it’s taint. The droplet's travels were interrupted by goosebumps. The wine cooler was just as chilled as the bottle shoved inside it. It shivered where it crouched on its knees, the glass bottleneck protruding from its backside like a strange stiff tail but it made no effort to move. It was only an object, there to serve at the pleasure of its owner.

The older man grabbed the neck of it and began to pull. It was like tug of war, the cooler's internal muscles cold and tight and unwilling to let the widest part of the bottle emerge. Asami was stronger though, and slowly but surely he pulled the freezing glass out of it sphincter.

The bottle came free with an audible pop and the hole hung open like a toothless mouth. The skin was white and wrinkled from the cold.

It looked thirsty.

It looked cold.

Asami downed the last of his fourth beer and massaged his piss hardened cock with his hand. He knew just how to warm it up.

-


	5. Toilet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Yanzebilo

The toilet quivered on its knees, its belly already full of ice and water, but Asami knew there was room for more. There had better be, if it leaked even a drop on the floor, there was going to be hell to pay.

His bladder was full from the fours beers he had consumed and he aimed his cock right at the toilet’s quivering hole. Piss shot effortlessly from the tip of his cock and splashed down inside the toilet’s bowels. It grunted and pushed its gut out and it tried desperately to make room for more fluid. The cavern gurgled as it filled with Asami’s hot urine but not a drop came back out. He squeezed his cock to get every last drop. A bead of urine plopped down into the hole. Asami could see the liquid sloshing in the darkness.

He picked up the empty beer bottle and plugged the hole back up. He stuck it in tapered end first and shoved until he was sure it was water tight.

The toilet shifted on its knees and as it moved to sit, Asami could see the amber liquid from its ass streaming down and filling the bottle stuck between its legs. Its stomach was distended and Asami bet it felt nice and warm now, with a round belly full of hot piss. A bead of sweat trickled across its forehead as Asami moved to stand in front of it. He took it by the hair and rubbed his dirty, urine soaked cock against it lips until they opened and sucked the flaccid length inside. It knew that Asami expected it to clean his cock.

Its tongue lapped the salty urine from the folds of Asami’s foreskin, sucking as if to pull more fluid from the tip and Asami obliged it. He filled its mouth with one last acrid spurt and the toilet swallowed his piss gratefully. Its massaged and stroked his cock with its cheeks and mouth and lips and released it only once every fold was shiny and clean.

Asami smiled at the toilet and wiped his hands in its hair. He wondered if it had a bidet function.


	6. Creamer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For qopxoxo and fanfic3112

Asami wasn’t one for cream in his coffee. He preferred it black, bitter and battery acid thick.

But there was one type of cream he would never say no to.

The creamer knelt on all fours on the breakfast table, its smooth flanks high and presented in Asami’s face as his hand moved between its legs. He pulled on its udder smoothly and rhythmically until its thighs jerked around his hand and a stream of thin, milky fluid jizzed from the tip. He held the spurting creamer’s udder pinched between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand and directed it first at his coffee and then into his cereal bowl.

He squeezed its testicles until it squeaked and then finally jammed his fingers up its ass to abuse its prostate and ensure that he got every last bit of sweet milk out.

He left the creamer on the table while he calmly sipped his coffee and ate his breakfast. There was no sense in putting it away just yet, he might want seconds.

-


	7. Living Statue/Sushi platter/Dinner plate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Rekishchizu and Allyance and Delmire

Asami was ravenous. He had worked through lunch, as per usual. The penthouse was quiet and dark. Asami was disappointed for he had secretly hoped he would not have to prepare a meal himself.

He noticed a dim light coming from the dining room and Asami made his way towards it. As the table came into view, his breath halted at the same time his feet rooted to the floor.

There on the table lay a plate covered in food. It was a delicious spread of delicacies and a rainbow of colors. Asami could see extravagant sushi dotting the platter’s slender torso, arching up its waist to sit high on its breast and collar. There were sashimi strips resting across it's thighs and a beautiful lotus flower bloomed just big enough to cover its crotch. It was a beautiful display, artfully arranged and it made Asami HUNGRY.

In Japan, there was a tradition of serving sushi from the naked body of a model. If it was a female it was called Nyotaimori. If it was a male model, it was called Nantaimori.

It was rather objectifying to be sure, and could be considered by some to be humiliating, but it was also about worship of the naked human form, displaying a beautiful body like art, like a living sculpture. And there was no masterpiece finer than the body Asami saw laid out for his pleasure, covered with his dinner.

He wanted to consume every bite and then lick the plate clean.

The billionaire settled himself into the chair provided at the side of the table. Every part of the plate was in reach from its head to its perfect pink toes.

He reached for a piece of sushi with his chopsticks and dipped it into the dark eel sauce that filled the platter’s bellybutton precariously. A dark drop of sauce ran down its waist and Asami caught it with the tip of his finger. He pressed it to his lips and then ate the sushi. Each time he took a piece, his cool chopsticks brushed the plate’s skin to see if he could make it shiver. When it did, he smiled like a shark.

When he came to the sashimi draped across the platter’s thighs. He decided that the pieces were too large to eat whole and picked up a wickedly sharp knife that had been left for his use. It was the kind of knife no one would want anywhere near their crotch and the raw fish had been placed precariously high on the plate’s tender thighs. Asami dragged the plate carefully over it's skin, well aware of the pulsing arteries that lay beneath his blade if he were to press down just a little too hard. In a display of complete trust, the object did not even flinch under each pass of the blade. He decided to eat the fish with another Western style implement that had been laid at the table for his use. He pressed the sharp tine of his fork down into the meat of the fish and the plate drew a sharp breath when the metal tines pressed into soft bare flesh. Asami pushed down firmly, but gently, enough to leave a tiny mark, but not enough to pierce the skin. He left the little marks like bug bites all over the plate’s pretty thighs, but the plate held perfectly still for him.

As a reward, when he had eaten his full, and the sauce had been dribbled all over the plate’s pristine white belly. Asami lowered his head and lapped it up with his tongue. He traced every rivulet that the sticky sauce had made it way over the sushi platter’s fragile ribs and when he was done, he decided he wanted dessert. It was uncharacteristic behavior for him, for Asami did not generally enjoy sweets.

He took the chocolate ice cream from the freezer, turned the plate over on its belly, spread its legs and shoved a freezing ball of ice cream right up its ass. It didn’t take long for it to start melting and the object to start squirming.

Asami licked every square inch of his plate clean.

His mother would have been _appalled_.

 

-

 

 

 

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	8. Blanket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For 19loveme and Arctic Shadow

That night Asami yawned contentedly as he pulled his blanket up to his chin and wrapped his arms snugly about its waist. He was hot and it was thick and heavy, but the way those sleepy limbs wrapped around his body as though it couldn’t bear to let go, Asami just didn’t feel like pushing it aside. He hummed into it neck and pressed kisses to its lovely sleeping face. 

Just a few more minutes.


	9. Vase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Akiza15 and Yo!

The next day Asami decided that the apartment needed a bit of sprucing up. He headed down to the local florist and purchased an assortment of colorful flowers and some leafy greens to frame the blossoms.

When he got home with his bouquet, he took the vase, placed a pad beneath it and sat it on the coffee table. He arranged it just so, face down, knees apart, butt up and then slid a long, skinny funnel inside until the vase’s anal sphincter closed over the wide lip of it. Into that funnel he poured plenty of fresh water. A sugar packet came with the flowers so he ripped that open with his teeth and shook that into the water.

Asami carefully placed each flower into the vase. He did not cut the stems, for he wanted them as long as possible, but he did remove all the thorns and polish each one smooth with a bristle pad.

The billionaire business man was in fact educated in the art of Ikebana, that is, the Japanese art of flower arranging. It was considered a spiritual expression by many and originated as a Buddhist expression of the beauty of nature.

Asami was certainly appreciating the beauty of nature.

His golden eyes glowed as he beheld the beautiful blossoms protruding from between the vase’s pale, shapely buttocks. It was a difficult position to maintain, to keep one’s anus tilted perfectly upright in order to hold the water inside and not spill, and with each flower that was presed in the vase had to relax its belly so as to keep the water from overflowing.

He made the arrangement so that the tallest flowers were upright and high, the stems deep in the its anus. The lilies and the elephant ears towered above the other flowers. He then draped others between the vases’ legs, like the bluebells and cherry blossom. When he ran out of room inside the vase, he covered it with the rest, sticking hydrangeas in its hands, poppies between its toes and freesia in its hair. It was lovely.

He spritzed the flowers with a fine mist and stood back proudly to admire his artful creation. It was hard to improve on perfection, but he had done it.

 

 From 'The Garden of Earthly Delights" Painted 1510 by Hieronymus Bosch,  Old school pervz.


	10. Sextoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW
> 
> I know someone said sextoy, but I cant find the comment, anyway, this is for you!

The vase stayed perfectly in position, serving its function well, but Asami got bored quickly. With its hole plugged up like that, it was beautiful, but served no practical function. He decided he had a better use for the object.

Asami plucked all the flowers from its various crevices and held a bowl between its legs so he could empty it and then removed the long, plastic funnel. That took some doing for he had shoved it so deep, the vase’s sphincter had tightened up over it. He had to dig his fingers around the edge and finally worked them between the rim of the plastic funnel and the vase’s tender flesh. It grunted as he tugged it free and then sighed in relief.

Its relief did not last long.

Asami withdrew a long plastic Fleshlight from a brown paper bag. It was the distinctive and ubiquitous sex toy for male masturbation. The outside was hard plastic made in the shape of a flashlight and inside that was a soft, molded insert made to look like a mouth, vagina or asshole. It was easy to remove the insert, for cleaning, and because many men liked to heat the rubber up for a more realistic experience.

The older man did just that. The malleable rubber popped out easily and flopped limp in his hand. Without the case, it had almost no structure and jiggled like Jell-O. He warmed it up under hot water from the tap and then lubricated the inside and outside.

It was hard to get it back inside its new case. Unlike the plastic case which snapped open, the anus of Asami’s preferred sex toy was tight and rubbery too. Every time he got it inside, it popped back out. It took considerable pushing and prodding and squeezing and jamming and _ramming_ to get the rubber insert down inside of his sex doll’s colon, but he managed it.

The doll squirmed on its knees on the bed where Asami had thrown it, but he popped it on its ass in reprimand. It was just a sextoy; its comfort and pleasure was irrelevant. Asami spread its legs wide so he could admire the way the pink plastic rubber pussy protruded lewdly from its crack and obscured its anus. It made the doll look like it had a giant, pumped up cunt between its legs.

He lined himself up with the opening and groaned in pleasure as he sank his cock inside the oily, heated rubber.

It felt nothing like a vagina.

But it was wet, and tight and the friction was nice. Asami took his time fucking in and out of the sex doll’s hole. He knew the sextoy wasn’t feeling much other than an uncomfortable fullness, like its asshole was numb. There was no stimulation whatsoever.

It lay there limp and let him use it, like a good sexdoll. Asami didn’t worry about its satisfaction a bit. He spend his wad inside the plastic tube and left it to lie there.

He’d clean it up later... when he felt like it.

 

 

-

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